


Domir

by skittykitty



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Apathetic Ezra Bridger, Character Study, Dark Ezra Bridger, Ezra Bridger Needs a Hug, Gen, Selectively Mute Ezra (Star Wars: Rebels), kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 23:49:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30063441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skittykitty/pseuds/skittykitty
Summary: The crew of the Ghost do not run into a young Ezra Bridger that day.Ezra finds his own path in the Force, whether he knows it or not.
Relationships: Ezra Bridger & Darth Maul
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	Domir

**Author's Note:**

> honestly I have So Many Feelings about Ezra and maul,,, god,,, I wish we got to see more of them in Rebels
> 
> Thank you [Cultivation](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cultivation/pseuds/Cultivation) for betaing this!!

The wind whipped through Capital City, a sign to the locals of an upcoming storm. If they were observant, one could hear the warnings— Ezra heard whispers of  _ danger,  _ of a building crashing to the ground.

Storms didn’t do much damage to the city; they only really blew down old houses and Imperial posts. The Imperials didn’t really understand how to build things to endure Lothal’s storms, and the locals didn’t want to help them.

Buildings crashed to the ground during most storms. Nowadays, it was as common a sound as thunder itself.

Ezra watched as store vendors packed their fares quickly. You could tell who was a new vendor and who was experienced by how fast they left the area. Experience spoke of Imps who would steal and arrest you simply for existing; hope spoke of sunny days and helpful neighbors.

Technically, both could be true. Any other day, any other planet— the Lothalites would be able to trust one another… be able to love as they had never been allowed.

He scoffed,  _ love—  _ love had died with his parents. Love died when his family’s friends had hidden him for months from the Imperial’s view.

Love died as they— one by one— disappeared. 

Ezra had been alone for years now, left to take care of himself— left to steal from those working for an honest living. 

He remembered the first person he had stolen from. The man hissed and spat, had almost given chase. It was the first true scare of his life— and the first moment of  _ satisfaction  _ as he ate the stolen jogan.

(After a few months, he would watch with uncaring eyes as the vendor got arrested by the Empire.)

His parents put the freedom of Lothal first, and they died for it. 

Ezra put himself first… and he was alive.

He would live in spite of their legacy. In spite of the whispers of  _ the Bridgers—  _ of impassioned speeches remembered by so few. 

Their few speeches had cost them their lives.

If speaking killed people, then Ezra would simply stay silent. He would watch as those who had taken care of him those few months were taken away, killed just like his parents. And he would do… nothing.

What was there to do?

He was their legacy— the last memory of their passion. If he died, they would be  _ gone. _

His teeth ground together as he forcibly kept silent. There were a million things he could say,— seas of tears he could cry— but he pushed it down.

Not yet.

Ezra was only seventeen years old, but in Lothal age didn’t matter. What mattered was the experience and the ability to keep your head down.

Maybe, someday, he’d be able to get away from his home— be able to smile and laugh with people who loved him. 

Ezra chuckled, choking back tears. He didn’t have time to think about them— to think of his regrets. 

There was a storm coming.

* * *

The old communications tower was a home for him. It wasn’t touched with the memory of his parents, nor those who had taken care of him in the interim. 

It was fresh and new, stocked with his collection of Imperial helmets and a key to his family’s home. No one had lived there in years... not since the Empire had raided it.

(Not since he had spent months hiding under the floor.)

In the face of the oncoming storm, he went home.

Of course, he would go home. Where else would he go?

_ Don’t go,  _ the universe whispered. 

Ezra ignored the pull on his shoulders, continuing to walk to the tower. As he drew closer to the turbolift, he felt hands press down on his shoulders.

He hadn’t lived this long by  _ not _ trusting his instinct, so Ezra turned away from his home. He would return after the storm, he reasoned. Still, some anxious part of his heart whined about all the things he was leaving behind.

He’d built a life here. Would he just abandon it like that? No. He wouldn’t just… abandon everything he had built in Lothal. Ezra would leave for the night and return in the morning.

Exhaustion weighed on his shoulders as he began to walk through the deserted fields of Lothal. The worst he could run into out here were loth-cats and, if the legends were true, loth-wolves.

It’d been years since he’d left Capital City.

Ezra smiled mirthlessly, beginning the long trek through the wilderness. Hopefully, he’d be able to find a cave to hide in before the storm hit.

Dark blue hair whipped around in the wind, covering his eyes. With a sigh, he pushed his hair away. 

The world was so… calm. There was the wind, the grass, and Ezra. No Imps there to attack him, and no adults to patronize him.

_ You should go to the Imperial Academy,  _ an old friend had advised.  _ You’ll be fed regularly, and you won’t have to steal anymore! _

They had smiled— as if Ezra would ever join the Empire that had killed his parents. As if he would give up his ideals for a safe place to sleep.

His tower was plenty safe, after all. It was home and— 

And—

Was home  _ really  _ an empty tower filled with Imperial helmets? Was home the house he had been trapped in for months?

What made a house a  _ home _ ?

Did his parents make that house home by being there? Now that they were gone, did that mean it was nothing? 

Ezra sighed, gripping his shirt. It hurt to think about them— it hurt to remember how little he  _ could _ remember. He remembered hugs and affection. Whispers of love and adoration.

He’d heard those tapes— those  _ speeches—  _ a million times... in desperation. 

_ You must stand up against our oppressors,  _ they had said.  _ We must stand as one against the Empire. _

Those few lines— the implication of what they truly wanted— had caused their death. 

The wind began to pick up as a howl echoed over the plains. Ezra clenched his fist, his blue eyes scanning over the hills. 

On a hill in front of him, a wolf stared down at Ezra. Its white fur stood out from the dark grey storm behind it. 

Bright yellow eyes stared into his own, as it watched him slowly walk closer. Sure, it was very large, but how was he to know if it was actually dangerous? 

The wolf waited until he was a few steps away until it walked towards one of Lothal’s hills. It stood out from the rest, as it clearly went much higher than the rest. The two of them walked in relative silence as Ezra took a moment to simply  _ breathe. _

He was too calm— unnaturally so. Any other day, he would be screaming and making a fuss. So... why  _ wasn’t _ he? 

The loth-wolf turned to stare at him again, yellow eyes glaring at him. They were almost there— almost to where the beast wanted him to go.

_ Why?  _ He desperately wanted to ask.  _ Why now? Why me? _

He chuckled soundlessly. It didn’t matter  _ why—  _ because… what else was there to do? He could go back to the tower to brave the storm or see what the loth-wolf wanted to show him.

Ezra followed the wolf close to the hill, only for it to disappear into thin air. Now, he was all alone— stuck by some random hill because an extinct animal led him here.

He laughed bitterly. Of course, this would happen. 

_ Of course— _

The wind grew stronger as Ezra stared at the hill. This had all been for  _ nothing.  _ He would die in the storm for nothing. The rain would begin and he would be here— stranded by a  _ wolf.  _ Why had he listened? 

Why was he  _ here? _

He fell to his knees as thunder boomed across the plains. Ezra laughed, a hand pushing against his cheek to hold himself together. This was the worst he had ever screwed up— it would be the worst and final mistake he would ever make.

He stared at the hill, dark blue eyes filled with  _ hate. _

The hill snapped to the side, displaying an entrance formed in the broken shell. Had that been… had that been  _ him _ ?

He hadn’t been touching it. How had—

Rain dripped onto his cheek. Ezra flinched back as if struck, rushing to get into the entrance before the storm  _ truly  _ began.

Dust hung in the air, as if no one had walked in these halls for generations.  _ Honestly,  _ Ezra thought.  _ It’s probably true.  _ He laughed to himself, looking through the building.

He gasped at the sight of two decomposed bodies sitting beside pillars. It was horrifying, but… at least he was out of the storm.

Footsteps echoed through the room as he walked, approaching the half-opened door. It looked like it had been broken somehow.

Shrugging, Ezra ducked under it. Dust flew past him as the door collapsed with a boom behind him.  _ This might as well happen,  _ he thought bitterly. 

What else could go wrong?

_ Ezra,  _ a familiar voice called.  _ Ezra, son, we’re here! _

Distorted versions of his parents walked from the tunnel ahead of him. Blurred faces stared at him as they spoke with his parents’ voices.

His mother smiled at him.  _ “Ezra, you’ve always been a disappointment, haven't you?” _

She laughed as he reeled back. He stared up at these  _ monsters—  _ at this… mockery of his parents. 

He desperately wished to  _ scream. _

His father smiled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.  _ “I wish you’d died instead of us.” _

“No.” It came out quieter than a whisper. Then, with a scream. “No!” Ezra closed his eyes, wanting so dearly to not have to see them— to be able to forget how disappointed they would be.

After a few seconds of silence, blue eyes hesitatingly opened to an empty hallway. He walked forward, looking around skittishly.

The next room had three exits. One on the left, one on the right, and one in the center.

It was a choice.

Ezra went down the right corridor, to a pitch-black room. He almost didn’t enter it— for just a moment— before he took the first step.

The door shut behind him, leaving Ezra in darkness. His footsteps were the only sound in the room as he walked through. 

“An apprentice without a master,” a voice echoed through the room. “And a master without an apprentice.”

The voice chuckled.

_ Who are you?  _ Ezra would have asked— if he hadn’t just been attacked by the memory of his parents— if he hadn’t been alone for a decade.

“Oh, not very talkative? My brother will break you of that quickly.” Ezra’s nails dug into his palm as he listened to the voice go on. “It’s what he does best.”

They sighed.

“You really won’t say anything?” A pause. “Alright… Ezra Bridger, you passed the temple’s tests.” A bright light shone down from the ceiling as Ezra covered his eyes. Squinting, he watched as the orange crystal floated to him. 

He lifted his palms to the crystal, allowing it to fall into his hands.

“Now,” he could hear the smile in the other’s voice. “Go meet your master.”

The same door he had entered from reopened, the light almost blinding him. Ezra walked into the light, squinting into the room.

What did they mean by—

A man stood in the hall, his back to Ezra. Short horns around his skull alongside his skin easily identified him as Zabrak. 

The man turned to him, yellow eyes sparkling with interest. “So  _ you _ are why the Force led me here. An apprentice, he said,” he laughed, a cruel tone in his voice. “An  _ apprentice.” _

Ezra’s teeth locked in place. His eyes screamed of the hate that had dominated his life. Letting out a sigh, he relaxed his jaw.

“Who are you?” 

Ezra held back a cough, held back anything that could be deemed a  _ weakness.  _ He refused to give way in front of… whoever this was.

“My name” — the Zabrak stepped closer — “is Maul, but you…  _ you _ will call me  _ Master.” _

With an unnatural calmness, Ezra stepped toward Maul. Holding out his palm, he watched those yellow eyes stare at the crystal. 

It wasn’t an agreement, but it wasn’t a refusal either.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! You can find me on my [tumblr](https://skitter-kitteruwu.tumblr.com/) where you can pester me to finish half-thought out ideas and scream to me about fics!!
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